The Orphan 1 (Patreon)

@Ryan Desmond suggested that I write a scene about his characters Juji'o and Rupiha having to raise an anup child. That sounded like a fun challenge to me!

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The intercom beeped and Juji’o perked an ear. In the gravelly krakun language, their owner announced, “Juji’o and Rupiha—come out here.”

He looked up from his prayers and glanced over at his mate. Rupiha had been sitting on the bed, but now her ears hung low with worry and her arms flailed, loosely signing, “What in the hells did we do now?”

He could only shrug at her before standing and pressing the intercom button. “Right away, sir,” he said. “D-did we do something wrong?”

“I’m giving you away,” said the krakun. “Grab your things and get out here.”

He wanted to beg his owner to change his mind, but every slave knew that not only would that be a waste of breath; he’d be risking making his owner angry—and nothing good would come of that.

So instead, Juji’o said a very hurried set of tearful goodbyes to his mother, father, and two siblings, grabbed some food from the kitchen area and shoved it in a bag, then suited up with his mate to face their owner.

“We’re here, master,” he huffed into his helmet’s intercom as soon as he had cranked the airlock hatch shut. “I’m sorry that took so long. I had to say goodbye to my family. Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?”

Barakutravis, however, didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the tiny environment-suited geroo standing out in front of their barracks. He was bouncing around, spinning, … singing to himself? Juji’o looked over at his mate, but Rupiha merely gave him an exaggerated shrug.

“Oh, there you are,” the krakun said, finally noticing them. He snatched a plate off the table and set it in front of them. “Hop on.”

Rupiha grabbed Juji’o’s arm in a death-grip.

“Um, sir?” he managed into the intercom. “Please say we’re not going to be some sort of snack—”

“Ha! No!” laughed their owner. This was more frightening than being asked to stand on a dinner plate, frankly. In his whole life, he’d never seen the krakun laugh. “I am giving you to my next-door neighbor like a plate of cookies, but that’s only because I’m not about to rent a cage just to send you down the hall. Nor am I about to stand there like an idiot while you two walk from one apartment to the other.”

Juji’o had never seen the hallway between the apartments, save for glimpses when his owner left or came home, but considering how immense the krakun’s apartment was, it could very well take the two a long time to walk from one to the next.

“Well, I suppose I could just pick you up, but”—he shuddered visibly—“yeah, no. I can’t exactly impress a gal by shoving two slaves into her claws. Yuck.”

“You’re giving us away … to the next-door neighbor?” gasped the slave. This was good news, at least. At that distance, he’d probably still be able to talk to his family wirelessly with his strand, even if there was no way to visit in person.

Barakutravis glared at him. “What are you implying? That krakun can’t be generous?”

Well, it was what he’d been thinking, but the geroo knew better than to say it.

“Besides,” said their owner with a flick of his claw, “when an older, dashing male—like myself—gives a gorgeous young gal a gift to replace the slaves she’s lost, she’s going to be so appreciative!”

Rupiha gestured frantically at her mate. “Um, sir?” he asked. “How did she lose—”

“Oh, I don’t know,” grunted the krakun, waving the question away as if it had been a troublesome insect. “Some sort of accident she said, but she’s fresh out of school and the anup had been a gift, so she can’t exactly afford to buy more. And since I can certainly spare the two of you…” he said with a glare.

Juji’o frowned and he could feel his ears heat in anger. “Your defective slaves, you mean.” Though he certainly didn’t think of himself and Rupiha that way, he’d grown accustomed to others saying it. Just because his mate was mute, and he was … well, incapable of fathering cubs, among other things, that didn’t make the two of them inferior to anyone else!

The krakun’s joyful mood evaporated, and he lowered himself slowly down until his mammoth face loomed just over the slave’s head. “You are not defective,” he growled, “and you best not let her think that you are—if you care about the family members you’re leaving behind. That would make me look cheap.”

Juji’o swallowed. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good,” the krakun said, his demeanor brightening a little. “Now, hop on the plate so I can deliver you to your new owner.”

Barakutravis bestowed his “generous” gift upon his next-door neighbor, and the entire exchange was simply … awkward. Although she seemed to want the slaves, she seemed repulsed by their former owner. It was possible that Juji’o was just reading her body language wrong, he got the definite impression that she didn’t want anything to do with the other krakun.

She promised to leave the plate outside his door—presumably, so he wouldn’t come by later on, asking for it—and closed the door with a simple, “Thanks.” Then she set the plate in front of the entrance to the slave quarters. “You’ll find my schedule in the computer,” she said. “I know there’s only two of you—and you’re tiny—but do your best to clean up what you can. You’ll just have to do until I can afford more.”

“Yes, mistress,” said Juji’o before the two entered the airlock.

Inside, the pair found a curious sight, instead of a single barracks hatch, there were two other hatches beyond the one leading back to the krakun’s apartment. Juji’o tapped the communicator on the side of his helmet so he could talk to his mate. “Pretty weird, Rupiha,” he said. “You ever seen anything like this before?” She shook her head.

“Suppose it’s like a kitchen area and a sleeping area?” Rupiha shook her head once more. “Yeah, probably not. I guess she can have a split crew that needs two different atmospheres.”

Rupiha adjusted the controls on one door, and he adjusted the other until they both displayed in the geroo language. Then, picking one hatch arbitrarily, Juji’o cycled the lock. “We’ll have to adjust the environmental controls from inside,” he shouted over the roar of the cycling air.

The first barracks was just a single room with a kitchen area on one side and a sleeping area on the other. There were toilets along the far wall and a computer terminal adjacent to the lock. The single room was probably twice as large as the one they shared before, but the old barracks had been split between four different rooms.

Rupiha sat down at the terminal and reconfigured the controls. The thick plastic gloves on the environment suit made typing tricky, but she had a talent with computers, and it didn’t take her long to find the appropriate menu option. The air started to woosh inside the barracks, but it was a much larger space than the tiny airlock had been. Changing all the air out would take more time.

Juji’o gestured with his thumb. “While we’re waiting, let’s check out the other barracks.” With a grin, he added, “You can change over the controls there too, and when I piss you off, you can make me sleep there instead.”

She gently punched his shoulder, clearly taking his jest as a joke. They hadn’t had a real fight just yet, but they’d only been mated for a few weeks. Juji’o was trying his hardest, but after a lifetime of ridicule, his self-confidence was still low. He secretly feared that he wasn’t good enough for his lovely bride.

Still clad in their environment suits, they returned to the lock and cycled it for the second barracks. Juji’o cranked open the hatch, but when it swung open, both of them gasped in unison. Though the barracks itself looked simply like a mirror image of the first one, this one wasn’t deserted.

Standing just two meters before them stood a single cub with a black pelt. His pointed ears were way longer than any that Juji’o had ever seen before, and his tail was merely a short, skinny black whip. The cub stood roughly one meter tall and had dark irises, but his sclera weren’t white at all, they were a pale yellow, like the flesh of a jackpaw fruit. Stranger still, both of the cub’s paws had been tightly wrapped in bandages.

The cub spoke, mouth opening wide and exposing a yellow tongue. Juji’o listened carefully, tilting his head. The cub opened his mouth once more, presumably repeating whatever he’d just said, but through the helmet, all the geroo could hear were a series of muffled woofs. “Did you get any of that?” he asked his mate.

She shook her head.

“Oh boy,” Juji’o sighed into his radio. “I had been praying that the doctor was wrong, and that maybe one day you and I could raise a cub together.”

He looked around the barracks once more, but the three of them were alone. His mate turned from the cub and stared at Juji’o, peering into his helmet’s visor.

“Perhaps, I should have been more specific in my prayers,” he said, “that I was hoping for a cub who could breathe our own atmosphere.”

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Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cOxxyOYRJLc8hfSJxlQmxFJ3M_RMFfTrixyzpb61fHs/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?